Tibet
by Juliet Knighly
Summary: A short story set when Sherlock is taking down Moriarty's web. *Sherene/Adlock* T for raciness.


**AN: Erm... I'm apologizing for my naughty behavior beforehand. And then I have to put the usual, so yeah.  
_STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY_  
**

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It wasn't natural. Not to him. His heart racing, mind in a whirl. It simply wasn't natural. SHE had caused it. The Woman. How, he didn't know, but she had.

When he saw her, glimpsed her in the streets of Tibet, it had happened. And because of it, his desire to see her grew. He would not deny that since Pakistan, he had wanted to speak to her, to know she was still alive. He couldn't explain why, but he thought it had something to do with sentiment. Maybe he cared for her, maybe he didn't. Did it matter? No, it didn't, he thought. But he would meet with her anyways, and when he got the text inviting him to dinner, he accepted.

It was a small but elegant place. And the moment he saw her, his heart began to pump faster, though he chided himself for it. She was dressed in a strapless violet gown that reached down to her perfectly polished toes, a smirk on her face and her hair in its usual up do. He complimented her outfit, then they sat down.

They talked little during their meal, only occasionally commenting about some bit of news they'd heard. But she hailed a taxi when they were finished and pulled him in with her, and he didn't resist.

The taxi dropped them off at a gorgeous hotel on the side of a mountain, the late-night air crisp and cool. Irene received a card key from the receptionist, and led Sherlock to the elevator. Their room was on the fifth floor, but due to the hotels location it could have been the fiftieth for its view. Snow-capped peaks rose around them and a valley stretched far below, though the moon did not illuminate its full grandeur. The couple looked out the window for a moment, then caught each others lips in sudden need and a flurry of emotion.

The moonlight danced on their skin, casting intricate shadows as the pair clung to each other, limbs entwined. They kissed furiously, not caring about the morning and the parting they knew was coming. It didn't matter at that moment. They needed each other, and they had each other. So they kissed as though tomorrow was non-existent, as though they would be together for eternity.

The morning sun gleamed a bright yellow. It lit the room with its warm rays, promising another day of life. Irene was the first to open her eyes, blinking at the sudden white. Sighing, she looked down at the sleeping man next to her. He looked so child-like and innocent, his hair falling gently over his forehead and his arm tucked behind his head. She eased herself out of the bed and got dressed in a simple ivory blouse and black skirt. Running a quick brush through her hair, she pulled it back into a bun, and, collecting her things and writing a quick note, left.

Sherlock awoke an hour later. A glance around the room told him she was gone, and with their work, it was unlikely they'd see each other again for a long while. He ran a hand through his curls as he spotted the letter, and read it as he dressed.

"My dearest Sherlock; I don't know how long it will be, so I must say this now... I believe I love you, though I have never had any true experience with the emotion, so I cannot be sure. However, I believe it is love. I wish you good luck in all you do, and pray that we may meet again someday. But if not, know that I am yours, forever and always."

It was signed in her flowing signature, and sprayed lightly with her perfume. He touched the paper to his lips, then gingerly folded it and put it in his pocket. Later it would go in a small wooden box that held all of his most prized possessions. He returned the card key, and, as he had finished his business in Tibet two days prior, boarded a plane heading for Florence. As the aircraft lifted off the runway, he looked down at the city and sighed. "I believe I love you too, Miss Adler. I believe I do."

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**AN: I'm sorry okay! It's so risqué for me, I don't know why I wrote it. I'm going to be cleansing my soul while you leave a review. Okay? Okay. CRAP HERE COMES THE WATERFALL. ALRIGHT BYE. THANKS FOR THE REVIEW.**


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